Callie and I are alike in more ways than not. We both believe that the killing we do for the government is necessary, and we both love the danger rush. At the same time, we both long to be normal someday, with normal lives, surrounded by people who care about us.
Oh, and we both love beautiful women.
“Good to have you back, Donovan. I thought I’d lost you. I can’t wait to see you.”
I closed the phone as Lou came into my office with a folder.
“We’ve played this scene before,” I said.
“With different results,” Lou said.
“So, the new boyfriend is clean?”
“Like an eagle scout. Sorry, Conner.”
I stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. “It’s for the best,” I said. “And Lou?”
He looked at me.
“Stop calling me Conner. I’m sticking with Creed.”
He frowned. “Darwin’s not going to like it.”
“Fuck Darwin.”
“Always an option, I suppose.” Lou’s frown deepened. “What about Tara’s people—aren’t you afraid they’ll come after Kathleen?”
“Why should they? We’re not together anymore.”
“What if Kathleen finds out Donovan Creed is still walking around?”
“There’s no reason for that to happen. If it does, I’m just another guy with the same name. Other than size, as long as I wear phony contacts, there’s no way to recognize me.”
“I have to confess, I hated the name Conner Payne.”
“Keep the ID’s, though, in case I want to use the name on a job.”
“What about Joe Leslie?”
“We’ll keep that one alive as well.”
“I’ll tell Darwin,” he said. He started to leave.
“Lou—wait up a minute.”
He stopped and turned.
I said, “There’s something I want from Darwin. It’s important.”
He cocked his head in an
I said, “This face job I got, it’s amazing, yes?”
“It’s a work of art,” he said.
“I want Addie to get one. And I want all the charred skin removed from her body as well.”
Lou said, “No way. Darwin would never authorize that.”
“Tell him I’ll pay every dime.”
“Donovan, look at me. To do what they did for you? That would cost millions.”
“I’ll pay every dime.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s a deal breaker,” I said.
He paused a bit, thinking it through. “You’ll pay up front?”
“Whatever it costs.”
“I’ll set it up.”
“What about Darwin?”
“Better he finds out after we start, than before.”
I grinned at my friend. “Thanks, Lou.”
Chapter 50
I caught him at 38th and Walnut.
Augustus Quinn—pro that he is—picked up the tail immediately, slammed on the brakes, and threw his car into reverse, trying to hit me. I slipped lanes and passed him, then jerked my car into reverse and pulled alongside him. We continued flying backwards down Walnut several blocks, side by side, staring at each other, until it hit him. He mouthed the word “Creed.” I gave him a thumbs up. Then we both had to swerve in opposite directions to let the angry black pickup pass safely between us. I motioned Quinn to follow me, and we continued driving in reverse down Walnut until we hit Rittenhouse Square. We screeched to a stop in front of the hotel and tossed the bewildered valet our keys.
“You ever try their crackling pork shank?” I said, pointing to the sign.
“With firecracker applesauce? They don’t serve that here.”
“Pity. In that case, I’ll have a strip steak.”
“I look like a waiter to you?”
“Not so much,” I said. “Want to join me for a steak?”
“I’d join you for rooster knees!”
“Well, who the hell wouldn’t?”
Smith and Wollensky was still the premier steakhouse in Philly. Like its cousins in South Beach and New York, the restaurant has a bank of windows that offers great people watching. We sipped some bourbon in the main bar and rated the women. It was mostly sevens and eights until we saw a Megan Fox lookalike who had it all going for her: high cheekbones, sultry smile, the impossibly toned abdomen she bared for those of us who appreciate such things. She wore designer jeans with rhinestone-studded back pockets. Every now and then we caught a fleeting glimpse of thong when she set her purse down or picked it up, which by my count happened twice. At one point, while I was distracted by the soulless bartender, Quinn caught a down-blouse.
“Real or fake?” he said.
“I missed the defining moment,” I said, “but you date enough strippers you get a feel for these things, pun intended.”
“So your answer is?”
“Definitely real. Without question, you are looking at a gift from God.”
“I agree. What do you give her?”
“For me it’s an eleven.”
“There are no elevens,” he said.
“Look again.”
He did.
“You’re right. We need to create a new category.”
I said, “Must have been a perfect day in Heaven, what, twenty years ago? This girl comes down the assembly line, God’s in the best possible mood, and, there you go.”
“So for you it’s a religious experience.”
“Some people see God in a potato chip.”
“How do you rank her against Callie?”
“Callie’s a twelve.”
Quinn was about to argue for a higher score, but two Asian girls walked past us wearing cut off jeans that showed half their backsides.
“Look at that ass,” Augustus said.
“Which one?”
“Both.”
